"Objection sustained." The judge struck the gavel again and looked at Lance. "Please focus on the case itself, Mr. Prescott."
"Of course, Your Honor." Lance nodded with a smile. "I am simply establishing that someone with such a childhood is unlikely to grow into a mentally sound adult with basic moral judgment."
"Some of you may already know our subject. He was once a psychology professor at Gotham University. Why do I say 'once'? Because Jonathan Crane has been dismissed. As for the reason…"
Lance returned to the plaintiff's table, took out his first piece of evidence, and presented it.
"This is Dr. Crane's academic file from Gotham University. Please note this section."
He pointed to the comment at the bottom.
"His advisor wrote: 'This individual possesses exceptional talent but lacks all ethical boundaries. He has repeatedly conducted extremely painful experiments on laboratory animals without authorization.'"
"This is not mental illness. This is antisocial personality. He knows exactly what he is doing, and he knows it is wrong. He simply does not care."
The defense attorney moved to object again, but Lance did not give him the opportunity.
He unfolded a large map of Gotham, marked with more than a dozen red points.
"These are the locations of fear toxin incidents over the past six months. Please observe the pattern. Every case avoids the core territories of the Maroni Family and the Falcone Family. The attacks occur along territorial boundaries or in unclaimed areas."
"Would a madman know to avoid gang territory? Would a mentally ill individual carefully choose targets to avoid provoking major powers? No. Only someone clear-headed, calculating, and fully aware of their actions would behave this way."
Lance set the evidence aside, stepped into the center of the courtroom, and faced the jury.
"Now let us return to the central question. Is Jonathan Crane a patient, or a criminal?"
"You may call him insane. I would call him a highly intelligent criminal attempting to use mental illness as a shield."
"A truly mentally ill person does not plan crimes, does not conceal evidence, and does not evade capture."
"A truly mentally ill person does not deliberately create and deploy a substance like fear toxin while fully understanding its effects."
"He is the one administering the poison. He is not the victim."
"Jonathan Crane has an antisocial personality. He is highly intelligent, emotionally detached, and treats the fear of others as sustenance."
Lance raised a stack of autopsy reports and death records.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please look."
"Look at these names. Look at these bodies."
"These are the autopsy reports and victim lists from all fear toxin cases over the past six months. Thirty-seven confirmed deaths. One hundred fifty-three cases of permanent psychological damage. Among them, twelve children."
He opened the top file and held it up.
The photograph showed a young girl lying on a morgue table, her face frozen in terror.
"Emily Chen. Eight years old. She died in her own bedroom because a window was left slightly open, and the gas drifted in from the street. The autopsy lists cardiac arrest as the cause of death. Now we know why. It was caused by this man's fear toxin."
"Jonathan Crane knew the gas would spread. He knew it would harm innocent people. He knew that children, the elderly, and the sick would be the first to die."
"And he did it anyway."
Lance looked at the livid Jonathan Crane. "Because to you, Doctor, this is not murder. This is an experiment. And these people, in your eyes, are not living, breathing human beings. They are merely…"
A pause, "Experimental data."
The courtroom fell into a dead silence.
Even the judge forgot to strike the gavel under the force of Lance's words.
Lance let out a slow breath. Standing at the center of the courtroom, he spread his arms and continued.
"So, ladies and gentlemen, when the defense says the law should not punish patients, I agree completely. But Jonathan Crane is not a patient."
"This is not a prank. This is not intimidation. He is committing premeditated murder through scientific means. This is an atrocity on the level of war crimes."
"He is a war criminal who has carried out biochemical attacks against civilians. And the place for a war criminal is not a mental hospital."
"It is the gallows."
The jury shifted uneasily. Murmurs spread through the gallery.
Gotham had no death penalty. Everyone knew that continuing down this line of argument would not lead to a legal conclusion.
But under Lance's words, anger, fear, and disgust still took root. The tension built, suppressed and searching for release.
The judge struck the gavel repeatedly, shouting hoarsely before barely restoring order.
Left with no better option, he struck the gavel again. "Court is adjourned for fifteen minutes."
As Jonathan Crane was escorted out by the bailiff, he turned his head to look at Lance.
Lance smiled and silently mouthed the words: "It's your turn."
During the recess, the defense attorney rushed over, his face dark with anger and barely contained panic.
"You are trampling on judicial procedure. I will report you to the Bar Association."
"Go ahead." Lance adjusted his cuffs, unconcerned. "But before that, you might want to consider how you plan to explain to your client how a guaranteed victory turned into this because of someone like me."
He paused, then let out a quiet laugh.
"Oh, right."
His tone turned colder.
"I wonder whether your client will have the patience to listen to your explanations, or whether he'll just cut you into pieces and send you down the sewer to feed the rats?"
The lawyer trembled with anger, then turned and walked away.
Gordon stepped forward and asked in a low voice, "Can we win?"
"It's a guaranteed win," Lance said. "But winning isn't the goal. The goal is to make sure he never gets out. Arkham can't hold him."
"I never planned to send him to Arkham. If Blackgate can't hold him, then we send him somewhere else."
"A federal maximum-security prison. The kind reserved for the worst offenders. No visitation. No parole. No treatment. Just four walls and a bullet waiting at the end." Gordon looked at him. "Can you make that happen?"
"I took your case, didn't I?"
Lance gave him a light pat on the shoulder.
"Just wait for the result."
___
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